


People Are Talking

by 89tczier



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ben Hanscom's romantic omniscience, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, The Losers Club (IT) Love Each Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-12 22:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/89tczier/pseuds/89tczier
Summary: The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.-The others wise up to Richie and Eddie's bullshit and try to do something about it. They... kinda pull it off?





	1. People are talking

** _7 days before_ **

“–and keep an eye on Ben and Bev!” Richie shouts, “I don’t want my bed broke–” he’s cut off by a very exasperated Eddie.

“_Can it_, Trashmouth,” He snaps, pulling Richie the rest of the way through the door by the lapels of his jacket. For some reason, _those_ two were being trusted to bring back some actual alcohol rather than the shit Richie’s always left with at the end of the month. They all know its gonna take them twice as long than if anyone competent was sent, but the others are frankly just too lazy to offer themselves.

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

Bev’s quick to respond, patting his back and giggling in a way that makes Ben feel a little loopy, “jeez, babe, you alright?”

Ben nods, composing himself under the watch of his friends, clearly interested in what could have possibly caused this outburst. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” Ben casts a glance back at the door, “they’re like… totally in love, right?” He’s met with nothing but confused looks.

“Richie and Eddie?” Stan asks incredulously while perched in Mike’s lap.

“Richie and Eddie,” he confirms.

Bill, currently nestled under Mike’s arm, snorts like it’s one of Richie’s stupid jokes, “the f-fuck are you on about?”

Ben almost gawks like he didn’t _just_ figure this out, but he did kind of expect the pieces to fall quickly into place once he pointed it out, “have you not seen the way they act? Textbook married couple.”

“They’ve always been like that though,” Bev shrugs, her brows furrowed as she appears to be trying to follow Ben’s logic (he loves her for trying).

He raises a finger. “My point still stands,” and goes on to explain, “they’re literally always together, hanging off each other… who’s the first person Richie asks for at a party? Who does Eddie always sit next to on movie night? They just– how can you guys not see it?”

“You’re talkin’ absolute bullshit, Benny,” Mike shakes his head, “Eddie’s close to ripping Rich’s head off half the time.”

“Oh come on, if he was really that annoyed he’d have said something about it. Eddie doesn’t stand for anything he doesn’t like.” Ben takes a pointed sip of his shitty beer to punctuate and _this_ point seems to land, and Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the least bit satisfied with himself. He’d always had an eye for this stuff, even if he was rather shitty at acting upon it himself (but hey, it worked out pretty well for him).

“Leave it to Trashmouth Tozier to flirt with someone by annoying the life out of them,” Bev smiles.

“And leave it to Eddie fuckin’ Kaspbrak to flirt back with threats and _holy_ _fuck_ Ben I think you’re right.” Mike’s face goes blank.

“See!”

Bill still seems like he’s considering it, “it would explain a l-lot, mainly how Eddie hasn’t actually k-k-killed him yet… a-nd the fu-fucking hammock!”

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s go around the circle. Then it all becomes clear.

“God, they’ve had this since high school?” Bev snorts.

“Why haven’t they said anything?” Mike asks, “It’s not like we’re gonna care, we’re one big lovey mess,” he squeezes both Stan and Bill for emphasis.

“I don’t think they’re dating, necessarily, they’re just… in love.” Ben shrugs.

Bill grins, “now that guh-gives me an idea…”

“You’re hot when you scheme,” Stan hums, resting his head against Mike’s.

“Tell me about it,” Mike agrees, and is poked gently by Bill.

“I think, and I s-say this only for the b-benefit and happiness of my two dumbest friends, we should… encourage them to get a fuh-fucking move on.”

Bev shuffles forward and straightens up, “like… goad them together?”

Bill raises his bottle, “exactly,” and takes a sip while Mike and Stan nod to each other in agreement.

“Smokin’ hot.”

Bill chokes, and laughter fills the room as he curses his boyfriends out.

“Sounds like we’re missing out on something, Eds, they’re officially kicking us out,” Richie pretends to mope as they enter Richie’s apartment again, a bottle in both of his hands. Eddie scoffs.

“Maybe _you_, asshole, you’re the one who got held up by some dog on the street,”

They all wait for it.

“And don’t fuckin’ call me Eds!”

Richie grins like he’s won a prize.

–

** _6 days before_ **

Bev isn’t the least bit fucking surprised when she wakes up to see she’s been added to a group chat called “_operation: let’s get our two losers together_”. She smiles, shifting some in Ben’s arms. He stirs, letting out a warm breath against her skin that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

“You see this?” She asks, turning the screen some so he can see. He squints and lets out a sleepy chuckle which makes Bev melt a little. She runs a hand over his forearm and locks their hands together, squeezing for good measure.

“God, this is either gonna go great or really terrible,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the skin where her neck meets her shoulders.

She hums, turning to face him, “I don’t know… I have a good feeling about this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… they seem meant for each other, I guess…” she pauses, smiles, and kisses him, “we all do.”

Ben smiles against her mouth and is about to return the favour when a string of texts floods both their phones.

p_ut it away Benny Boy, we’ve got matchmaking to do_ ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:23

_Meet us in our flat_ ~ Stan, sent at 08:23

_guys, give em the chance to wake up, they had a long night ;)_ ~ Mikey, sent at 08:24

_they need to hurry up and get a move on, we’ve been talkin all night and they need to get caught up_ ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:24

_Well,_ n_ot all night_ ~ Stan, sent at 08:25

_…cease_ ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:25

“On second thought, this is the worst idea ever.”

She cackles, dragging both of them up and towards the bathroom. The boys could wait a little longer.

“Casa de Stan, recently co-owned by Bill and Mike too, speaking please?” _This is always how he answers, the dope_.

“Hey Mikey,” Ben says, voice still a little groggy from sleep. _God, he’s hot_, Bev thinks to herself, slotting a gloved hand into his.

“Hey guys!” The door clicks open, and they breeze up the first flight of stairs.

Bill greets them at the door, still in his sleep shirt. “Don’t,” he deadpans, right as Bev’s about to poke fun at the bruising around his neck and chest. She grins slyly at him, patting him on the back as she passes him.

“Benny! Bev! Get in here!” Mike calls from the den. Bill follows them in, taking a seat next to Mike and throwing his legs over his boyfriend’s lap. Stan’s stood hunched over the small stove on the other side of the room, scrambling some eggs which smell unfairly delicious to a moderately hung-over Beverly.

“You’ll get some in a minute,” he states, reading her mind.

“Always knew you were my favourite,” she said, which earns a ‘_hey_’ from both Mike and Bill.

Bill calls them all to sit down, explaining that they need to actually plan this out as quickly as possible. Richie and Eddie were the only ones with early classes that day and it would be suspicious (and mean) if they were told to keep at bay while the rest of them hung out.

They chow down on some scrambled eggs (which exceed expectations, Bev reminds herself to get the recipe off of Stan), and it ends up working out like this:

They’re going to pry for a few days, see if they can get a rise out of either of them, then at the end of the week they’re all going to meet up at Stan’s place. Using an excuse they haven’t though of yet, they’re going to try to get both Eddie and Richie into the bathroom at the same time and then block the door.

“N-nothing like a confined space and a l-little bit of drink to get the vibe g-going,” Bill grins.

“Speakin’ from experience there, Big Bill?” Beverly playfully chides, giggling as Bill’s ears go pink.

Ben hums quietly, “what if they don’t go for it?”

“They looked three seconds away from mauling each other last night, I think they’ll jump at any excuse they get,” Mike points out, and the plan is set.

They say their goodbyes afterwards, and as Bev fiddles with the key to their flat, Ben takes her wrist gently, turning her around and pulling her into him.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her in that wonderful way he does that leaves her wanting so much more.

“I love you too,” She grins, draping her arms over his shoulders, “always will.”

–

** _4 days before_ **

Richie is head over fucking heels, Bill decides.

The two of them offer to help Eddie study terms for a quiz at the end of the week, which fuck knows why they had any hope of that working.

They start off well, Richie and himself trading roles as Eddie nailed each piece of terminology about cognitive processes with detailed explanations to boot. It takes about ten minutes of their relaxed sprawling over Eddie’s floor for their resolve to break. It starts with Richie’s foot-tapping Eddie’s shin to the beat of whatever song he’s humming as Bill reads from the flashcards. Then it’s the complements, and holy fuck, how has Bill _never caught this before_.

“So smart, so cute!”

“Rich, if you don’t shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it, I’m like a mama bird watching her baby take flight for the first time. Just wanna puke some worms into your mouth.”

“Richie! That’s fucking disgusting!” Eddie near screeches, pushing himself up and lunging forward, knocking Richie back onto the ground and pinning him down. Richie’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and Eddie is too. He can’t believe these assholes are in _college_.

_Okay, this is perfect,_ Bill thinks, as right on cue, Eddie leaves the room to grab his textbook.

“Got somethin’ on my face, Billy?” Richie asks once he catches the ‘_care to explain?_’ look Bill is giving him.

“Don’t w-worry about it,” Bill gives his best nonchalant shrug, “it’s just cute, that’s all.”

And he catches it, the signature ‘i’m fucking whipped’ look: the dopey smile, the avoidance of eye contact, the excepting laugh. _Gotcha, bitch_.

“Isn’t he just?”

–

** _2 days before_ **

Stan’s starting to fret.

The text came through a few minutes ago, and Stan is reeling.

_eddie said he met a guy last night??? went home w him and everythin???_ ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:03

“A one night stand?” Mike asks, leaning over Bill’s shoulder to read with Bill’s glasses on because his own are fuck knows where.

“Fucking apparently?”

“Okay, this might not be as b-bad as it seems. They d-don’t know about the other l-liking them, yeah? Eddie’s p-probably, like, in denial or coping or som-something.” Bill slots his glasses off of Mike’s face.

Stan stops pacing and takes a breath, collapsing onto the arm chair opposite, “you’re right, probably just Eddie being stubborn.”

“‘Atta boy, Stan,” Mike grins, shifting to the side and stretching out his legs, resting them in Bill’s lap.

_did eddie seem interested in the guy?_ ~ Big Bill, sent at 13:11

_not really, didn’t really talk about him much_ ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:12

They all sighed.

“Why are we so invested in this again?” Stan mumbles.

“Because it’s gonna be entertaining as fuck if we pull it off.”

–

** _1 day before_ **

Mike has more luck.

He, Bev and Eddie are browsing around the grocers, preparing for tomorrow when they hear a yelp from the isle next to them. Mike peeks around, seeing a very excited looking Richie pick Eddie up from behind, bouncing him around like he weighs nothing. Mike expects a slew of curses, but Eddie giggles like Mike’s never heard before.

“Put me down, you asshole! You’re gonna knock something over.”

“You’re the one flailing your limbs, Eds– Mike and Ikes! Fancy seeing you here!” He damn near drops Eddie, who’s flushed and breathless.

“We’re trying to shop, you asshole, can’t we have five minutes peace,” Eddie gives him a light shove.

“Oh I know, I’m on a last minute supply run.”

And Mike’s stupid enough to fall for it and ask, “why?”

“Pickin’ up Eddie’s mom, need condoms.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh as Eddie goes ballistic.

“Get the fuck out of here, Trashmouth, before I commit a crime,” he shoots Richie daggers, and Rich gives him a salute.

“Sir yes sir,” he half-shouts, sprinting over to a very tired looking cashier.

Eddie’s still watching him, “asshole,” he says with so much fondness Mike thinks he might start floating.

“You don’t seem to mind,” He pokes at Eddie’s pinked cheeks, snorting as Eddie smacks it away from his face.

“Hey dipshits,” Bev calls, carrying a basket full of crisps and liquor, “did you get the chasers?”

Eddie sighs, turning on his heel and walking back to the fridge, which Mike’s guessing was where he was heading before Richie snatched him up.

“Will diet do?”

“Sure, go crazy.” Mike says, as he quickly types.

_eddie’s absolutely gone for him, this is gonna go great_ ~ Mikey, sent 21:33

–

** _The night of_ **

It’s a slow day for Eddie. His test has been eating away at him slowly and painfully (no matter howmany times Richie said he’d crush it) and while he left feeling confident, he knows he’s still gonna stress about it. It goes fine, but he’s still thinking about it during his shift and the worry hasn’t left him.

_It’s just a stupid test_, he thinks as his stomach continues to knot itself. Thank god he’s getting drunk tonight.

Eddie lives the furthest away from Stan’s (and Bill and Mike’s) and he really doesn’t wanna walk that far in the cold so he stops by Richie’s after class, knowing he probably has a couple of nice shirts left over there from nights where he’s really too drunk to go home, inevitably leaving the next morning in one of _Richie’s_ shirts instead (huh, funny how that happens). He also knows that if he so much as catches sight of his roommate, he’ll fucking blow up.

He fishes Richie’s key from his pocket, lets himself in and thinks C_hrist, would it kill Rich to clean up a bit?_ He’s certain that the pillows from the couch are still there from last Friday. He steps over them after pushing off his shoes in the corner.

“Rich, You fuckin slob! Clean your apartment,” Eddie calls out in place of a hello.

“Afternoon to you too, Eddie!” He hears back. Eddie follows his voice through to the bedroom and finds himself lost for fucking words.

Richie’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless, drying off his mess of curls with a towel. He doesn’t notice him for a moment, and Eddie takes that moment to curse the way those jeans hang from his hips. He lingers on Richie’s wiry frame for just a moment more than he probably should.

_Damn, Tozier_ he huffs.

“You peeping on me, Eddie?” Richie’s dumb Southern Belle accent _should_ drive Eddie up the wall, and Eddie does roll his eyes, though it’s really just for show. They both know that.

“Your den is a mess.”

“I like it that way,” Richie’s quick to reply, brushing past Eddie as he heads for his dresser.

“Tough shit, I don’t,” Eddie snaps back, now back in his rhythm as the blood returns to his brain.

Richie grins as he picks through his shirt, taking his sweet time with it and all Eddie can focus on is the hint of his happy trail poking out above the waistband of his jeans. He chooses one, and now Eddie can actually look away as Richie holds the tee up for his approval.

It’s his _The Cure_ one, black, matching his nails and jeans, and easily Eddie’s favourite, both on Richie and to wear himself (it’s comfortable, and it definitely has nothing to do with the looks Richie gives him in it).

They kill time by fixing up Richie’s couch and watching weird ASMR videos on Richie’s laptop. Eddie’s sure the effect is lessened by only having one earbud, but it’s still uncomfortable but so worth hearing Richie snort each time Eddie cringes.

“Is it just me,” Richie says, hitting pause on a woman in cat ears about to pretend to ask them out, “or have the others been acting weird.”

“Right?” Eddie yanks the earbud out, “Bev’s been like… weirdly invasive… like more than she usually is.”

“They all have, what do you think it’s about?”

“I have a funny fucking feeling we’re gonna find out.”

–

There’s a weird fucking vibe in the place when he and Eddie arrive.

“We miss out on the world’s weirdest orgy or something?” Richie asks, mostly joking, as eyes fall on the two of them.

Stan makes an exaggerated gagging sound, and Bill’s face screws up. What a great audience he has.

“Shut up and sit down, Trashmouth, we’re doing shots,” Bev playfully snarls at him.

It gets a little less weird the more Richie has to drink, but he’s either going crazy or there’s something going on. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie shrugs right before he throws a shot back, and Richie gets to watch his Adam’s Apple bob and his eyes squeeze shut and his nose crinkle up because Eds–

“–cant fuckin stand tequila.”

_God, he’s cute_.

He meets Richie’s gaze, “what the fuck are you smirking about?”

_He’s hot, too_.

“You take every shot like it’s your fucking first, Eds,” he teases back and it’s huskier than he means it to come out, because he’s tipsy and can’t stop staring at that little drop of liquor running down Eddie’s chin.

Bill chokes, sending everything in the shot glass over his face. Mike cackles.

“Rich, can you go g-get me a f-fuckin washcloth.”

And it’s there that everything ramps up to fuckin’ eleven. Ben starts grinning, Stan’s got that fucking look on his face that can only mean trouble.

“Why the fuck do I have to do it?”

“C-cuz you m-made me spit every-w-where!”

Richie puts his hands up in mock defeat, “alright, alright, damn.” And he stands up, shuffling into the bathroom.

“Oh!” Stan calls after him, “my contacts too!”

“Aye aye!” Richie yells back, scanning the mirror cabinet for anything resembling a fucking contact case. Disinfectant, _no_, flavoured lube, _nice but no_… Richie’s squinting as if that’s gonna fucking help. “Can’t fuckin find ‘em, Stan!” He calls back out to them.

He hears a soft “Eddie, go help him,” from Mike.

“You’re going blind for real, fuckface, lemme see,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him, and tries shoving Richie out of the way with his side, but really just ends up pushed up against him. He’s warm and smells of spirits and vanilla, Richie doesn’t fight back, nor does he notice the others approaching the bathroom either.

He’s so focused on the way Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly when he’s concentrating he’s a second too slow to realise.

“When did Stan start wearing contacts– oh shit, Eds, wait–” Richie’s barely gotten the words out before the bathroom door slams shut, making Eddie jump closer against him.

The other losers are whooping and hi-fiving from the other side of the door, and Eddie turns to stare at Richie as if to say _what the fuck just happened_???

“Beats me.”

“Admit it and we’ll let you out!” Bev says in what Richie assumes is a terrible Terminator impression.

It takes a second (again, because liquor and Eddie) to realise, and he flashes Eddie the biggest grin he can muster.

“Golly gee, Eds, I think they figured it out!”

He’s not being loud, but the others can apparently hear him, because they’re gloating stops in an instant.

Eddie matches his grin, “fucking finally,”

“Wait, what?” Mike sounds confused.

The door opens, and the others are staring at them like their fucking martians.

“Wait what the fuh-fuck?”

_Hm, that’s interesting_.“I have a feeling there’s been a big misunderstanding,” Richie starts, still grinning.

“Did you guys do it already?”

Eddie snorts, Richie scratches the back of his neck, “uh, gonna have to ask you to be a bit more specific, Benny.”

“Confess. Did we not hear it?”

Eddie frowns, “confess to what?”

“Don’t be difficult, Kaspbrak,” Stan groans, “that you’ve been secretly pining for each other for fuckin’ ages?”

“Is that what you shut us in there for?” Richie asked, his voice creeping up an octave because _oh, this was delicious_.

The five of them answer simultaneously “yes!”

Richie looks down at Eddie, who holds his gaze for all of one second before they dissolve back into shit eating grins.

“God we really gave you guys too much credit.”

“Stop being coy, trashmouth!”

“We’ve literally been dating for three months, holy _shit_, guys.” Eddie rubs his face like he’s exasperated.

“What?” Ben nearly yells.

“Here we are thinking you dumbfucks finally figured it out–”

“In fairness, Rich, they got halfway there.”

“When the fuck were you planning on telling us?” Stan demands, keeping a hold of Mike’s arm for balance.

Eddie volunteers to explain. “Well, it took a few weeks to kinda… figure stuff out, and we were gonna tell you then but then Rich wondered how long it would take you guys to figure it out on your own–”

“So you guys kept this shit on for three months?”

There's a mixture of confusion and amusement around the room. Richie had been kind of worried that they’d be angry that the two of them had kept this for so long, but upon learning that they’d also been scheming themselves for the past week, Richie feels pretty fuckin justified now.

Eddie gives his best ‘_are you fucking joking_’ face, “you guys never said anything! And as much as we wanted to just get over with, it was so fucking funny to see how much shit you guys would let us get away with.”

“Such as?”

“The fact that you, _Beverly_, bought “I needed a shirt after my ‘walk of shame’” as a reasonable excuse as to why I was standing in Richie’s kitchen, wearing one of his dumb band tees, absolutely _covered_ in hickeys.”

The other four turned to look at Bev, who pursed her lips and mumbled, “understandable,” as Stan whisper yelled “how the fuck did you miss that?”

“Stan you literally walked in on us mid makeout!”

“What? When?” He demands.

“You burst into my flat, mid-rant…”

There’s a good five minutes of the two of them listing all the times there beautiful, supportive, oblivious as all fuck friends had missed what was so clearly in front of them. The energy shifted into something warm and jovial.

“So,” Richie takes Eddie’s hand, “which one of you started this.”

Everyone answers “Ben.”

Eddie grins up at him, and Richie swears he’ll die right there, “told ya so.”


	2. Let Them Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they make out, richie feels things, its great

_3 months ago_

“How fuckin’ old are you?” Richie chides with no real temperament behind it as Eddie, stubborn as ever, refuses to leave.

“I know it won’t get done for another fuckin’ week, so I’m sitting right here until you clean up after yourself.”

Eddie’s right, the den is fucking trashed. All but two pillows from Richie’s couch are strewn across his floor, empty bottles and bowls filling the spaces between them.

“It’s your mess too! And the others.”

“But you’re the host, shit for brains,” Eddie kicks his feet up on the couch for effect, his shirt riding up some, he’s tipsy enough not to say something snide about Richie’s blatant ogling.

“Some housewife you are,” Richie scoffs, starting to pick up the travel-sized bottles strewn about his flat. A cushion bounces off his head, “hey!”

“I’m still your guest, dickwad, be nice to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie picks up the pillow, holding it above his head and chucking it full force back at Eddie.

He yelps, but there’s a grin forming on his face. Eddie tries to get up on his knees for a more powerful shot at Richie, but he’s too slow, Richie’s already pushing back down, and running his fingers up and down his sides.

“Rich! Holy– shit stop!”

“How’d ya like that, huh?” Richie yells over Eddie’s frantic laughing, finally easing up and propping himself up on his elbows. Their bodies are pressed together, and Richie can feel Ed’s chest rising and pushing up against his even after he pushes himself up.

“You suck ass.”

“Your mom likes that about me,” Richie grins, hovering over him.

Eddie’s face screws up adorably in protest, “shut the fuck up, Tozier.”

“Shut me up yourself.”

There’s _something_ smouldering in the deep brown of Eddie’s eyes. For a moment Richie thinks its anger, but he knows by the way Eddie’s mouth curls ever so slightly it’s something different. Richie’s suddenly very aware of himself and the lower half of their bodies pressed together.

_Say something, you idiot_.

“C’mon Eds, shut me–”

Eddie does, reaching up and pulling Richie down to kiss him by the neck.

It doesn’t last long, it’s barely more than a peck. Richie pulls back and is met with those pretty brown eyes again. There’s a weird but silence between them. It’s not often that the two of them are without something to say, but they have moments like the one just passed, where the apprehension and temptation hang between them like an incredibly sexy bad omen. They’ve never acted on it before this, and its kinda frying Richie’s brain because holy shit, was this always an option?

“Nothing to say? My god, it’s a miracle,” Eddie grins, hand still cupped around his jaw.

Richie, for all his might, can’t manage anything but a breath of laughter. His mind is reeling, his lungs feel like they might collapse in on themselves, and his sweatpants are growing increasingly tighter.

Eddie runs his thumb over Richie’s lower lip, “just gonna stay there and gawk, Trashmouth, or are you gonna kiss me again?”

Richie doesn’t need to be told twice.

He ducks his head and catches Eddie’s lips in another kiss, hearing him hum with satisfaction as he does. It’s soft at first but deepens quickly as Richie swipes his tongue over Eddie’s lips. His mouth falls open and he makes a cute noise as Richie’s tongue slides in.

They eventually have to break for air (much to Richie’s chagrin), and for another moment it’s silent.

“That was something,” Richie finally exhales.

Eddie’s brows furrow the way they do when he’s about to start bitching at him. Richie can already feel himself grinning, “_something_? You stick your tongue in my mouth and all you’ve got is s– _oh_!”

He cuts himself off with a soft gasp as Richie readjusts them, pulling Eddie up and over him so he’s straddling Richie. Whatever he’s about to say next is cut off by Richie kissing him again with just as much intensity as before. Eddie’s hands travel up his neck and knot themselves in his hair, and Richie knows he’s one sharp tug away from losing it. He plays with the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, tracing the small of his back with the pads of his fingers.

“Your hands… are so… fuckin’ cold,” Eddie murmurs between short bursts of kissing, tightening his grip on his hair, which elicits an embarrassingly loud noise from Richie. “Oh? That’s good to know,” he grins, and it takes everything in Richie not to rip the remainder of his clothes off when Eddie curls his fingers again.

The self-satisfied smirk on Eddie’s face goes slack as Richie drags his mouth from Eddie’s, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of his jaw. Eddie shifts in his lap, breath hitching as Richie takes the skin between his teeth. “Fuck, Rich…” he breathes out, letting his head fall back as Richie starts to work down his neck, alternating between nipping at the tanned skin and sloppily kissing at it.

“You keep moving like that, I just might…” his voice is low and muffled with his mouth pressed against Eddie’s skin.

“Like what? This?” There’s feigned innocence in his voice, and definite intention in the way Eddie pushes his hips down, grinding against Richie. He groans, biting down harder than he means to on the exposed skin of Eddie’s collar bone. He’s about to pull away and apologise, but sharp moan that escapes the man above him makes him reconsider. He licks at the new mark, bites down again experimentally, and Eddie fucking keens, falling against him. The sharp pull at his hair and the friction between them and the _fucking noises_ he’s making makes as Richie rocks up against him makes Richie feel dizzy, very aware that he’s teetering real close to the point of no return.

“Eds,” he murmurs as his hands continue to wander under Eddie’s shirt, “Eddie we should probably talk…”

“Yeah, we probably should,” his breath is hot against Richie’s ear, but there’s something so sombre in his voice it makes Richie want to wrap him up and never let him go.

He swallows as Eddie leans back to look at him, eyes wide and lips swollen, arms draped over Richie’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, uh, far you wanna take this… if you wanna stop we can and I’ll never bring it up again, scouts honour,” he musters a smile, but thought of Eddie going ‘_actually, yeah, what the fuck was I thinking? Bye bitch_,’ is really fucking painful.

Eddie licks his lips, “that kinda depends… is this going to be a one-time thing?”

The question hangs in the air, and god, Richie really doesn’t know what to say. What he wants to say is no, that this could be an ‘always-time-thing’ if Eddie wants it too, because Richie does. He’s wanted this, wanted Eddie, for as long as he can remember.

“Because, Rich, I really don’t want it to be,” He continues, whisper-quiet like he’s done something wrong.

A smile pulls at the corners of Richie’s lips, “good… that's really fucking good Eds,” he says and cranes his neck to kiss Eddie again. It’s soft and holds the promise of many more like it, Richie’s trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot into it, cupping Eddie’s jaw and running a thumb over his cheek.

Eddie’s quick to pull back, and there’s a look of worry on his face, “just to clarify,” he starts, and Richie can’t help but chuckle, not even trying to hide the way he’s staring – the way he’s always stared at Eddie, like he’s everything – “you’re good with seeing where this goes in general? Like, outside of… uh…” he looks down at their laps, “this?”

“Absolutely, Eds, abso-fuckin-lutely,” he nods, savouring the way Eddie’s eyes brighten.

“Good… really fucking good,” he mimics and smashes there lips together again.

The force of this kiss is almost jarring after the sweetness their last one, but Richie welcomes it, eager to pick up where they left off. Eddie makes a delicious noise as Richie presses a hand to the crotch of his sweatpants, downside being that he pulled away as soon as he did, and worry fills Richie. He’s about to apologise for not asking first, but what Eddie pants against him cuts that train of thought right off.

“No way we’re doing this on the couch. Your room, now.”

Can’t argue with that logic. After Richie’s head stops spinning, he stands the both of them up, hiking Eddie up a bit and holds him up by the thighs as those tanned legs wrap around him. How he hasn’t completely blown his top by now, he doesn’t know.

“Fuck– that was like, insanely hot,” Eddie mumbles against him, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, “you’re like, deceptively strong, dude, what the fuck?”

“Had plenty of practice, me and your mom–”

Eddie digs his heels into the base of Richie’s spine, “do not,” he bites hard at Richie’s shoulder, “bring my mother up when we’re about to fuck.”

Present circumstances were making it pretty hard for Richie to think of a witty response, so a strained “force of habit” is all he can manage as he staggers down the hallway. Miraculously, they make it the ten feet to Richie’s bedroom. Eddie squeaks adorably as he’s dropped on the mattress, though Richie doesn’t give him time to chide him for it, crowding over him and cutting off the start of his complaint with another open mouth kiss. His lips are starting to hurt now, but god if it’s not a hurt Richie’s willing to sign up to for… well, forever.

It plays on his mind as they go further. As Eddie fumbles with the buttons on Richie’s shirt; as Richie kisses down Eddie’s bare chest and around his hips; as the two rut against each other desperately; even as Richie goes near-brainless with release, the thought of forever remains. Forever with the losers is one thing, it’s completely guaranteed. He knows Ben and Bev are forever; probably Mike, Stan and Bill as well. Forever with Eddie clicks for him, like the planets aligning or some shit: something meant to happen, a cosmic fucking promise. There’s a moment when they’re lying together with nothing but heavy breaths filling the room that Richie worries it’s just wishful thinking on his part. But when Eddie shifts to slot his body against him, tucking his head under Richie’s, the worry melts away.

They still have more to figure out, but they have time.

They have forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't help it i made it sappy at the end

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not gonna lie the next chapter is like entirely softcore shit (hence the mature rating) so hope you enjoy that!


End file.
